Whispers in the Dark
by Breea
Summary: In a land being torn apart by the Blight, Duncan must find and train the few that can make a difference and possibly save Ferelden. Bonds of love, friendship, and adversaries made along the way. Adventure, action, spiced with romance; pre-DA:O
1. Happy Little Bunnies

**HAPPY LITTLE BUNNIES**

**CHAPTER 1**

The sun hung heavy in the west, melting into the forest, causing a dazzling display of light and shadow to play across the camp. It would be cold and dark soon, but Duncan took a moment to enjoy the last remnants of warmth on his face. When he opened his eyes he glanced around the bustling camp, everyone busy preparing for the feast that was to begin shortly. Spirits seemed high for this particular group of people. Grey Wardens weren't usually known for their cheeriness.

Duncan started off again, his moment of respite over. The festivities were missing an important face, one Duncan was determined to drag out of his tent, whether he liked it or not. He could not afford ill spirits to run rampant through his camp.

"Brooding will not help matters. You need to socialize more." Duncan didn't even say hello as he ducked into Alistair's tent. Despite this unannounced visit, Alistair didn't move. He sat on his bunk, head sinking ever lower in his hands.

"I can't sleep." Alistair mumbled. "No sleep makes Alistair a cranky boy."

"Nightmares?" Duncan asked sympathetically. Alistair merely nodded in reply.

"They'll subside."

"Promise?"

Duncan hesitated. He was trying to make the boy feel better but he didn't want to outright lie to him. His hesitation was enough answer apparently because Alistair sighed. "I know, I agreed to this. I'll be okay."

"Well, I did kind of forced your hand." Duncan conceded.

Alistair looked up at that. "No I agreed to join."

"Right of Conscription?" Duncan reminded him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, but I wanted to come, you know I had no desire to become a Templar." Alistair attempted a half smile. "I'm better off here; I can serve The Maker better as a Grey Warden than in the Chantry." He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as Duncan.

"There is a feast tonight, in honor of the newest batch of recruits. Their joining was this evening." Duncan looked down at his hands as he continued. "Three of the five survived the ceremony."

Alistair closed his eyes. "Two dead."

"You always see the bad. There is good in this. Our ranks grow as the threat of the Blight grows. We need every Grey Warden we can get." It was Duncan's turn to sigh. "Please come join the feast, Alistair. I hate to see you in here in this perpetual state of sadness."

Alistair didn't respond right away. He was lost in thought, upset by all the loss of life he had come to see in this past month since joining the Grey Warden ranks. Finally he stood, resolve firmly in place in his expression.

"Okay Duncan. You win. No more pity party for me. All roses and streamers and happy little bunny thoughts from here on out. Call me Alistair the optimist." He forced a cheesy smile.

Duncan thought it was a little over the top but he also knew he needed to encourage this new attitude lest it be lost forever. They were in dire times but he didn't need his Grey Wardens, especially Alistair, to feel negative about their situation. Even if it was humorous and halfhearted, he needed a strong, bold, hopeful, if not cheerful Alistair. Alistair was going to be key.

"Come along then, before Elijah eats all the pie." Duncan led the way out of the tent and into the camp. The mood of the people around them was catching and soon everyone was eating and celebrating. There was a sense of having to get merriment in while they could; Duncan could see people straining to smile and forcing laughs.

It was unfortunate but inevitable. Soon, there would be no time for laughter and fun. Soon, there would be war.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you want to go alone, Duncan? Elves can be...tricky to get along with." Elijah furrowed a concerned brow. Elijah himself was half Dalish, though one couldn't tell by looking at him. Like most half elves he looked human, his features a bit more striking and youthful then his age would have you believe. He was average height, lightly built for a warrior with dark hair and blue eyes the color of midmorning sky. He had been raised an orphan, dropped off at the orphanage as a newborn by his Elvin mother, the only reason he knew of his Elvin heritage.<p>

Duncan smiled at his friend. Though ten years his junior, Elijah was a seasoned warrior and knowledgeable beyond his years. His background before joining the Grey Wardens was a mystery to all but Duncan; most of the camp wondered at their leader's reasoning behind listening intently to Elijah's counseling. However, they quickly found that Elijah had yet to lead them astray in battle and most of the Wardens now appreciated his expertise.

This was one time, however, that Duncan wasn't going along with his friend's advice. "I need you here, Elijah, while I am gone; I will be fine alone. I should be back in 3 days time. You know what to do."

"Defend the camp, send scouts to clear the way to South Reach." Elijah nodded. "It will be done." He still didn't feel right about sending Duncan off on his own. He knew the man was fully capable of defending himself but there was a bad feeling growing in Elijah's gut. He'd learned early to listen to those warnings his intuition gave him; it had saved his life many times before.

But Duncan had a plan of his own and Elijah had to defer to his leadership. "I know." Duncan replied; he had full confidence in his lieutenant. "Three days." With that, he turned and left the camp.


	2. Respect and Wounded Pride

**RESPECT AND WOUNDED PRIDE**

**CHAPTER 2**

The forest was silent. Elorna didn't like it. The forest was supposed to full of life and sounds; the animals and trees making unending music. The silence hurt her ears and made every hair stand on end in anticipation. Of what, she wasn't sure.

Listening harder she could barely make out the crunch of footsteps coming from the north. Without making a sound herself, she darted between trees toward the sound, as light and graceful as a gazelle. Just short of the person approaching (stomping like an elephant at that) she crouched behind a shrub, shaded by a large oak. Her gray eyes strained to see through the branches to see if she could recognize the invader.

It was a man, a shemlen, an unwanted outsider. She sized him up quickly; he was tall, even for a human. He had seasoned dark eyes and a beard that marked his age. He held himself as a trained warrior; he was no novice as he would have her believe by his loud approach. She smiled in spite of herself. This might actually prove to be a challenge.

She slid quietly through the undergrowth and trees until she was far enough ahead of him on his path. She didn't know why he was in her forest or where he was going, but she didn't approve of outsiders near her camp. She was going to put a stop to him before he became a threat.

She waited quietly and patiently for his footsteps, her back against a tree, her knife in her left hand. Elorna solidified the plan in her head, right down to where she would grab him and where the knife would go. She realized after a few minutes that she could no longer hear the footsteps. Did the shemlen go another way? The trail he had been making would lead him no other way than this; maybe he had stopped for a rest.

She held her breath, listening intently. The forest was still eerily quiet except now the distant footsteps were gone. Elorna was about to risk turning to look when she heard a small breath on her right. He was right beside her!

The breath was the only thing that saved her from being knocked on her butt. She blocked his hand at the last second, knocking it away from her. It startled both of them but only for a moment. As she suspected, he was not a novice.

They faced off, her with her knife, he with just his hands; he did not draw his sword. "I mean you no harm." His voice was kind and genuine, but she had heard it before. She twirled her knife once in her hand to let him know she didn't believe him. He didn't try to persuade her again.

He also didn't go after her. She stepped in and slashed, which he avoided easily. She hadn't been trying very hard; she was sizing up his agility and technique. He wouldn't be easy to take down. He had at least five inches on her and probably 50 pounds. She wasn't daunted.

She went in with her knife again, as he maneuvered away she stopped mid-swipe and aimed a kick to his side instead. It connected but he bent sideways with it to dissipate the impact and shoved her foot away to set her off balance. Little did he know that balance was Elorna's middle name and all it did was make her hop once to regain her footing.

He used that opportunity to lunge and try and grab her but with a twirl and sidestep she was out of his reach- so she thought. He anticipated this move and managed to grab her wrist. With a duck and twist she was free but only because he let go; he was in position to grab her by the waist. If he did, it would be over.

She sacrificed her balance to get away, falling to the ground and rolling away, on her feet in a breath. He was turning to face her again; she hadn't gotten very far from him. Before he could get his bearings she swept on leg out, trying to knock his feet from beneath him. With surprising nimbleness, he pivoted at the last moment and grabbed her outstretched leg and pulled it, not gently.

She was on her butt; the position she avoided at the beginning of the fight was now the position she found herself in. She blinked up at the man in surprise, the wind momentarily knocked out of her. He reached down and grabbed her knife. Elorna wondered briefly what it would be like to feel her own knife in her chest but he merely looked at it, then flipped it in his hand and held it out to her, hilt first. "I told you, I mean you no harm." He repeated, his voice still kind and warm.

Elorna didn't know whether to be impressed or pissed. She was one of the best warriors among her clan; not many Dalish and no shemlen had ever bested her prior to this. She wanted to respect him but her pride was severely damaged.

He offered his hand but she stood on her own. "What are you doing here?" She asked, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"I am here to speak with your Keeper."

Elorna was surprised. "Keeper Mariat? Why would you think she would speak to you?"

The man smiled. "She is expecting me. We have had dealings in the past."

She was immediately suspicious. "If she is expecting you, why wouldn't she tell me? She knew I would be scouting this morning."

"I am a day early. My travels were easier than anticipated."

"You seem to have an answer for everything."

"It's easy when you speak the truth." His smile hadn't wavered and she found it unsettling. Humans didn't typically smile at elves unless they were up to something or about to get a great deal in a trade. She wasn't sure she trusted this man.

"You can go speak with her if you wish. Mention my name, Duncan, and she will know me. I can wait here if you're uncomfortable taking me to your camp."

Elorna's temper flared again. Was he insinuating she couldn't protect her people's camp? Just because he had gotten lucky this one time, didn't mean he could take her down again. She was about to tell him so when she realized the forest had awoke again. Birds were chirping, trees were humming happily, and the forest creatures broke branches as they ran through the brush. The forest felt safe once again.

Swallowing her massive amount of hurt pride she shook her head. "Unnecessary. Follow me. Mariat can deal with you as she wishes." She turned and headed for camp, never once looking back to see if he was following.


End file.
